


Stupid Fucking Choices

by Unforth



Series: Tumblr Ficlets: Supernatural [84]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 20:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10839027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: Tumblr ficlet written to the prompt: Instead of killing him, Lucifer cuts off Gabriel's wings and makes him human. He goes to the Winchesters for help





	Stupid Fucking Choices

**Author's Note:**

> The past few weeks, I've taken prompts for short fics and written and posted them on Tumblr. I wanted to post them on AO3 as well but have been considering how best to do so. A quick survey of my subscribers and followers suggests that people would prefer if I post them all as individual stories and put them in a series together instead of as multiple chapters on the same file or any other of several options, so that's what I'm doing.
> 
> Please note that I generally do not take "out of nowhere" prompts, cause I don't have time, but I will sometimes ask people to send me ideas and I'll write them in the order I receive them. 
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr at [unforth-ninawaters](unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com).
> 
> Make sure you read the prompt! 
> 
> [~original post~](http://unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com/post/160380798308/because-i-dont-think-ive-ever-seen-you-write)
> 
> Prompt, from consultingcas: Because I don't think I've ever seen you write sabriel? Instead of killing him, Lucifer cuts off Gabriel's wings and makes him human. He goes to the Winchesters for help

_In a lifetime of stupid fucking choices this is the stupidest fucking choice I have ever made._

_Really? Stupider than dropping from Heaven to play Loki? Stupider than hanging out in London during that fire? Stupider than those twins? Hey, at least the twins were fun, and there was a certain schadenfreude to the fire. But this…_

With a groan, Gabriel rolled onto his stomach. The pool of his blood on the tile floor beneath him made it depressingly easy to slide forward.

 _No. Going to the Winchester’s for_ help _is not stupider than confronting my brother was._

What room had the Winchester’s been in?

_I knew he was better than me._

_And I faced him anyway._

Lucifer had meant to leave Gabriel for dead. Gabriel was _sure_  of that. 

That _was the stupidest fucking choice I’ve ever made. And because of it, the number of stupid fucking choices I’ll have the opportunity to make in the future has declined precipitously._

But he was alive, for better or for worse, and fucking damnation if he didn’t, for some oddball reason, feel compelled to try to stay alive. 

_Not many opportunities for wingless angels to do…anything._

The motel reeked of ozone and death, the corpses of the Gods and Goddesses of yore strewn about the room. Whatever Lucifer claimed his mission was, the carnage he left behind spoke louder than words. Lucifer didn’t want compromise, didn’t want peace, didn’t want coexistence. Lucifer wanted the world, the _entire_  world, and he wanted it on his terms.

God, his back hurt.

 _Really, Gabe? Invoking_ God _after all these years? When was the last time father gave a damn about anything I thought or anything I wanted? I wasn’t Golden Boy Lucifer, I wasn’t Diligent Michael, I wasn’t perfect damn Raphael…I might as well not have existed. So I didn’t exist._

Not existing had been easy.

Existing sucked on ice.

 _Why_  had Gabriel helped the Winchester’s?

Details of the hotel seemed to fuzz in and out, the existence of the locale growing tenuous as the magic that protected the God conference dissipated. The carpeted hallways were considerably more difficult to navigate, the friction of his clothing against the ground a nigh-insurmountable challenge to dragging his sorry ass toward the Winchester’s room, but those twat weasels were his best chance of survival.

And Gabriel _wanted_  survive.

_When has what I wanted ever mattered to this family or anyone else?_

_What I want matters to_ me _. That’s why I’ve spent the last umpteen millennia as a self-indulgent, selfish prat._

For a miracle - _what, you think I’m gonna owe you one now, dad?_  - Gabriel found himself before the door.

He knocked.

There was a clatter, silence, an endless delay that had Gabriel grumbling under his breath, and then the door slowly opened on silent hinges.

“Took you long enough,” grumbled Gabriel.

“Gabriel?!” Sam Winchester explained. The damn moose looked to have grown at least three feet, and waved a pistol in Gabriel’s general direction as if the damn gun would do a thing to him.

 _No, you’re lying flat on your stomach slowly bleeding to death, you moron, that’s why he seems tall_. _And with your wings gone that gun can kill your pathetic, flightless ass._

“Hey, moose, long time no see!” Craning his neck to see hurt, tugged at the ragged wounds that he suspected were all too evident around the shredded remnants of his coat. Yep, Sam looked horrified. Score. Or something.

“That Gabe?” Dean called.

“What’s left of me.” Gabriel tried to infuse some of his usual jocularity into his tone, but it was hard. Fuck, but he heart, body and soul.

“Right,” Sam said, stuffing the pistol in his waist band.

“Be careful,” Gabriel said, though the words sounded awkward in his mouth. Something was wrong.  _Oh GOD that’s hilarious, what_ isn’t _wrong you fucktard?_ “You’ll shoot your ass off. And it’s a mighty fine ass, so–” Sam dropped down beside him, put hands on his cheeks and looked at him with genuine concern. “Wha?”

“Gabriel? Can you hear me?” asked Sam.

“I was literally _just talking to_. Damn, Winchester, I knew you were a space cadet, but–”

“Just breathe, okay?” Sam continued. Damn, with his brow furrowed with concern, his eyes big and dark and bright, he was adorable. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

Gabriel tried to reply, but his mouth wouldn’t work. Had he been speaking at all? Had he _moved_  at all? Maybe this was all one last bullshit illusion produced by his bastard of a brother - _now, now, he’s not a bastard, we’re actually fully related, ain’t that grand_  - to taunt him with a whisper of hope before the end.

With Sam smiling down at him, Gabriel was oddly grateful for that whisper of hope.

_Thank you, Luci._

_It’s been real._

_I mean, no it hasn’t, it’s been an illusion, but hey, it was a nice one. I appreciate it_.

Gabriel closed his eyes.

*

Gabriel opened his eyes.

The relief, the pure _joy_ , that Sam Winchester beamed at him was bizarre, inexplicable, probably impossible, and possibly illegal in several states.

“Gabriel!” Sam exclaimed.

“W. T. F. moose?” Gabriel mumbled. “I’m s’posed to be dead.”

“No - no - Lucifer tore your wings off but you got to us in time, and Cas was able to do some healing mojo. You’re going to be okay!”

“ ‘m I ever gonna fly again?”

There was a strained silence.

“Then I’m not gonna be okay. Shoulda let me die.”

“No!” Sam’s vehemence and passion were incomprehensible. “We didn’t save your heavy ass just so you could wallow. I didn’t _forgive_  you for all that shit you put me through just so you could mope. You _will_  heal, and you _will_  get out of this bed, and you _will_  help us save the world and take down Lucifer, or so help me God I’ll see that _you_  finally get your damn ‘just desserts.’”

Stunned, Gabriel blinked, and then asked slowly, “and if I do help?”

“Huh?” asked Sam, as taken aback by Gabriel’s response as Gabriel had been by Sam’s enthusiasm.

“If I _do_  help, will I also get my ‘just desserts?’” He gave Sam a suggestive look.

“Ew, gross!” Sam scoffed.

“Aw man, way to flatter an archangels ego, gonna kick me while I’m down next?”

Sam ignored him, a pensive look coming over his face. “But…well, let’s get you healed up, and then…let’s just talk, okay?”

“Talk,” muttered Gabriel. 

_Hey, there was a time after that Mystery Spot fiasco you never thought Sam would talk to you again._

_That was a pretty twisted, fucked up thing to do in the name of helping them…_

“I’d like that,” admitted Gabriel. Sam broke into a soft smile, and Gabriel couldn’t help but smile back.

With his wings gone, with Lucifer on the loose, Gabriel had thought his life over.

Amazing what one patented Sam Winchester Smile ™ could do for the soul. Better than chicken soup.

Sex would be nice too.

But Gabriel was patient. He could wait.

“Sure. Let’s talk.”


End file.
